


Prophesied

by gaycheldare, piper_mccool



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/F, hope u like it!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 01:01:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15938498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaycheldare/pseuds/gaycheldare, https://archiveofourown.org/users/piper_mccool/pseuds/piper_mccool
Summary: pjo au where rachel gets prophecies about reyna in the last olympian and reychel is canon"The girl in the paintings made Rachel’s senses come alive – her chest tighten, her pulse quicken – but Rachel never thought it might mean something about her instead of the rest of the world."





	1. The Beginning

Rachel hid the paintings under her bed.

She always used to hide everything under her bed (it was a big bed).

She’d shown them to no one but Percy, thinking the girl had to do with the Titan war – everything had to do with the war back then. Rachel’s head was always swimming with gruesome images and confusing prophecies. In fact, in the midst of it all, the girl who’d kept appearing in her dreams and weaving her way into Rachel’s crazed artwork had seemed like a beacon of light – a break from the relentless pessimism of Greek tragedies come to life.  
But the war had come and gone, and the girl hadn’t shown up.

Rachel couldn’t help but feel disappointed, but so much was going on, she just brushed it off. Percy said she shouldn’t worry about it. They’d been through hell on earth and survived. They were lucky not to be a part of those lost – they owed it to them to move on.

But Percy was lying, and Rachel couldn’t let the image go.

A Roman nose. Full lips. Sharp dark eyes. Battle scars.

Always in powerful purple. Always wearing too serious an expression on her young face.

She made Rachel’s senses come alive – her chest tighten, her pulse quicken – but Rachel never thought it might mean something about her instead of the rest of the world.

***  
Rachel left the paintings under her bed. She tried to ignore them. She went to school, and to the local art center, and headed charity events. She went to Camp Half-Blood for oracle business, and visited Percy nearly every week that summer. They managed to stay friends through everything – wars could have that effect.

They were sitting on his bed, Percy leaning against the wall with a bag of chips and Rachel doodling absentmindedly, when Percy leaned over, concerned.

“What?” she demanded.

He rubbed his thumb over his lip worriedly. “You’re still hung up on that girl?”

Rachel whipped her head up, her eyes bulging out of her head. How did he know? Her mouth went dry.

He nudged his chin towards her sketchbook. “The girl you’re drawing – does it mean something? Is it a prophecy after all?”

Rachel breathed a sigh of relief, feeling her shoulders relax again. She hadn’t realized what she’d been doing. She looked down at her pencil, which was outlining poise shoulders.

“Oh. That. I don’t know what it means.”

His eyebrows knit together. “Is she a demigod?” he asked. “Or a goddess, maybe?”

“Maybe.” She shrugged. Then blushed, though she didn’t know why. She wondered why Percy asking about the girl made her so nervous.

“Should we tell Chiron?”

Rachel’s eyes widened. “No!” She caught herself. Why was she so worked up? “I mean, I don’t think it’s relevant. There’s no point worrying him.” The girl wasn’t a threat, Rachel was sure. And the visions felt personal, somehow. She didn’t think they were meant to be shared.

Percy was eyeing her suspiciously, so Rachel stole a fistful of Cheetos.

“Hey!”

Rachel smiled disgustingly around her mouthful.

Percy shoved her, nearly pushing her off the bed. Rachel leaped to her feet enthusiastically and called across the hall, “Sally, your son’s using some colorful language!”

Sally answered back a distracted “Uh huh”, and Percy and Rachel both burst into laughter.

They spent the rest of the afternoon teasing each other in circles, avoiding discussing hard themes. They’d had enough of those for a lifetime. For the moment, they were just teenagers, just friends hanging out, and the end of the world was a thing of the past.

Rachel was having such a good time, she almost forgot something was horribly wrong.

***  
Percy recognized the girl. He didn’t know where he knew her from, or when. But he had the strange feeling he had seen her before, in a distant memory.  
Maybe he was wrong. He had to be wrong.

***  
He wasn’t.

When they first came face to face, he didn’t know it was her. He didn’t know anything at all. Not even himself.

But slowly, he remembered. Everything. A proud golden-haired girl. A brave satyr. His camp. His mom.

The island. Circe. The pirates.

The paintings.

Rachel saw Reyna, Praetor of Camp Jupiter, figurehead of a stranger demigod camp the likes of which he’d never known, in her visions. What kind of role would Reyna play? Could he even trust her and the romans?

What did it mean?

***  
Rachel had a dream that night. A dream the likes of which she hadn’t had in months.

The girl was there, smiling, reaching out to Rachel with tender eyes. A small laugh escaped her lips, and everything felt right, real.

But then the dream turned nasty. The girl’s hand melted away. Her form blurred, falling apart, dissipating into mist. Through the girl’s disappearing shape, Rachel saw Annabeth, gripping a cliff’s ledge. Her knuckles were bloodied, and her ankle was enclosed in a bubble-wrap cast. Something wet and slimy was stuck to her leg, and it was pulling, dragging her into the abyss. Annabeth screamed. She kept screaming, crying out, the sound reverberating in Rachel’s eardrums.

Percy’s terrified face appeared over the edge. He reached over, straining until he could just graze the ends of Annabeth’s fingers. Over his head loomed a statue, its face mirroring Percy’s fear.

A second later Percy and Annabeth were falling into Tartarus.

Then the vision switched again, and she saw the dream girl once more, now flying through dark clouds on a caramel-colored Pegasus. Both of them looked ragged. The girl’s toga was ripped, her braid a greasy rope of matted hair along her back. She wore a determined expression, but she looked desperate, scared. Rachel thought there were tears trailing down her cheeks, but she wasn’t close enough to tell for sure.

Rachel woke up in a sweaty heap, a name reverberating in her head, over and over. She leapt out of bed and ran out of her cave’s entrance. Something terrible was happening.

***  
That evening, a note appeared in the dining hall’s sacrificial flames.

Connor didn’t know what to make of it, but he brought it to Rachel like it requested. It asked her to meet with Reyna, praetor of a place called Camp Jupiter, and convince her to cross the Mare Nostrum to retrieve the Athena Parthenos and bring it back to Camp Half-Blood. The note, written on a crumpled napkin, was signed Love, Annabeth.

It was time for Rachel to meet the girl who couldn’t escape her visions.

It was time for Rachel to meet the girl of her paintings and dreams.


	2. Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Girl meets girl

Rachel noticed that the first thing Reyna looked at was her hair.

The first thing everyone noticed upon meeting Rachel Elizabeth Dare was bright red hair. It was boring, all she ever heard throughout school was how hilarious it was that her initials spelled out RED.

She wore a white blouse and soiled jeans, and was tapping a blue plastic hairbrush restlessly against her thigh. She hoped this wouldn’t go as bad as she expected. Although that wasn't the only reason she was nervous.

Rachel singled Reyna out as she walked across the building’s roof, her gaze darting from her face, to the medals adorning her chest, to Aurum and Argentum, walking obediently at either side of her elegant toga. Rachel was wary of the dogs – they were terrifying, made of precious metals and sporting mouths lined with sharp teeth. She had no doubt they could eat her whole if ordered to.

Octavian trailed behind Reyna, his chest puffed out pathetically. He made a move to stand in front of the praetor, but she raised a hand, stopping him in his tracks. Reyna met the Greeks at the center of the roof. Her toga and braid flapped in the chilly wind.

Rachel didn’t know what she had been expecting. Reyna looked tired, exhausted, sporting dark under eye circles and a deep frown. Her hair was wet. She held herself confidently, though Rachel noticed a difference from the way she always appeared in her visions. Less assurance. Less grace. She probably wouldn’t have noticed anything off in the girl’s composure if it hadn’t been for years of fixation over her odd dreams.

Reyna was somehow so much more beautiful in person.

Rachel shook herself out of her reverie. They were here for a reason. She took a step forward. “You got my message.”

Octavian made a sly comment, and Reyna narrowed her gaze. “Octavian…”

Their encounter seemed to pass by in a blur.

“Do you bring weapons?” Reyna asked.

“I hit Kronos in the eye with a hairbrush once. Otherwise, no.”

Reyna seemed impressed. For some reason, this pleased Rachel.

Rachel took Annabeth’s note out of her pocket. The napkin was crumpled, and she smoothed it out against her pant leg before handing it to Reyna.

Octavian snatched it from her hand. He read it quickly, growing more outraged with every word. “A Greek trick!” he shrieked, slamming down the napkin.

Reyna’s expression turned sullen at the note’s message. A crease formed between her eyebrows. “Why ask this of me?” she asked.

Rachel answered honestly. “Because Annabeth is wise. She believes you can do this, Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano.”

Reyna glowered. Did no one call her by her full name? Was Rachel coming across as a clueless mortal girl, addressing her in this way? But Reyna agreed to go with bare hesitation. Octavian seemed more than glad – with the praetor away, he would be in charge. The expression on his face made Rachel’s blood boil.

When time came to part ways, Rachel found herself lingering on the image of Reyna. She wondered if she would ever see her again. She hoped she wasn’t sending her off on a suicide mission.

But Annabeth seemed sure it was the best solution, and Rachel trusted the daughter of Athena. Besides, Rachel wouldn’t be getting visions urging her to contact Camp Jupiter’s praetor if it wasn’t going to work out… At least, she hoped not.

One day, she would see Reyna again, she assured herself. And she might even be lucky enough to get to know her.

***  
It happened just like in Rachel’s dreams. Reyna travelled the Mare Nostrum alone, with only Scipio and her stormy thoughts for company. She, Nico and Coach Hedge throve in their quest to bring the revered Athena Parthenos to Camp Half-Blood. It was a treacherous journey, but not an impossible one, and in the end, they succeeded.

Rachel knew Reyna could do it.

***  
They were alive.

Rachel was frustrated that her prophecies hadn’t told her if she would make it, or if Reyna, whose spitting image couldn’t seem to leave her alone for two seconds, was even going to survive. Great deal of help the Oracle’s spirit was.

But the second war was over, Reyna had lived, and Rachel had yet to receive another sinister prediction for the future. Of course, she was sure one would come with time. Demigods never did seem to catch a break. But, for the moment, she was fine to celebrate.

Festivities lasted the rest of the night. Both camps came together to rejoice their victory against Gaea. They sang loudly at the bonfire, which shined brighter than ever, a lively hot pink.

When it came time for the Roman campers to head back to Camp Jupiter, Rachel accompanied them; she wanted to take a look at their prophecies and research the illustrious Sibylline books everyone kept bringing up.

Camp Jupiter’s celebrations were even greater. The populace of New Rome was overjoyed. Banners were hung up all over, food was flowing in left and right. But Rachel noticed someone was missing…

***  
Reyna sat on a temple roof, watching the sun rise and absentmindedly stroking her hand over the tiles’ grainy surface. She was lost in thought when she heard a shuffle and felt someone sit gently beside her.

Reyna looked up to see Rachel, wearing her usual combination of pen-covered jeans and hoodie, and an unusual look of concern. She put her hand on top of Reyna’s, stilling it, and observed her closely. She moved with an odd familiarity, as if they were more than merely acquaintances.  
Softly, she asked, “How – How are you holding up?”

Reyna’s face contorted. She couldn’t spill all her problems to a stranger. In fact, she couldn’t open up to anyone at all. It was a praetor’s duty to reassure her subjects, to keep up the legions’ morale and assure them everything was always running smoothly.

But Rachel wasn’t one of her subjects. She wasn’t a part of their world at all. She hosted the Oracle’s spirit, but she was still very much mortal; not a drop of godly blood ran through her veins.

Rachel’s presence was reassuring. Maybe… maybe Reyna could open up to someone. Just one person. Possibly.

But Reyna pushed the idea out of her mind. She wouldn’t – she couldn’t – simply spill all her grievances to some random girl.

“I’m fine,” she lied. She kept her gaze trained on the horizon, on the shape of buildings in the distance – the barracks, the outposts, the homes in New Rome. Rachel didn’t press her for any more information.

The sun was inching ever so slowly up the sky. Rachel brought her right hand – the one that wasn’t holding Reyna’s – up to shield her eyes. “Boy, is it getting hot up here.”

Reyna gawked at her.

Rachel realized what she’d said and blushed a bright red. She awkwardly untangled her fingers from Reyna’s in order to rise up to a crouch.

“Come on. I know… I know it’s hard to move on, but… I guess I just want you to know… I’m here for you if you need me.”

Rachel looked Reyna in the eyes before creeping to the edge of the roof and sliding down the side of the temple. She looked up at Reyna from the ground. The praetor’s hand suddenly felt very empty.

“Come down!” Rachel held up her hand once more, and Reyna scooted down the incline. Eagerly. She chastised herself internally for so easily trusting Rachel. She was by all means suspicious. A Greek oracle, one who’d somehow learned her full name. A mortal, who could see through the mist… Reyna had never heard of anything of the sort.

She’d risked her life on Rachel’s word. She couldn’t keep trusting her so easily. For all she knew, this could still be some kind of trick.

But Reyna had exhausted herself coming up with every possible threatening scenario. Deep inside, she believed Rachel to be genuine. Maybe, for once, she should trust herself.

Reyna reached out her arm and allowed Rachel to help her off the roof.

***  
Rachel dreaded going back home.

Part of it was because she didn’t want to go back to Clarion. She couldn’t stand the fancy prep school, with its stuffy teachers and overarching air of importance. But Rachel had been going there for a while now, and she was used to the suffocating excessiveness of it all. There was something new, something unexpected, that bound Rachel to Camp Jupiter. Someone she didn’t want to have to leave behind.

The idea had crept up on Rachel ever so slowly. She’d known she liked girls for years now; the art center she spent so much of her free time at was an encouragingly queer place. She’d learned to accept herself, but coming to terms with her identity was an ongoing process she would most likely never be freed from.

Rachel liked Reyna.

The thought was terrifying, but it was such a relief to have it out in the air.

Rachel liked Reyna. A lot. She was crushing on Reyna, Camp Jupiter’s praetor, the daughter of Bellona.

Rachel knew nothing would come of it, but she was glad she had figured it out.

Seeing Reyna around camp after this realization was a recurring opportunity for embarrassment. Rachel noticed herself snapping to attention whenever Reyna spoke, paying attention to her very word, trying to memorize the cadence of her voice. She stole glances at the praetor during dinner, and lingered on her hands when she spoke at meetings.

Reyna played a lot with her hands. She had this habit of twisting them together when she was thinking things through – Rachel doubted she even knew she was doing it.

Rachel spent a lot of time with Reyna – asking questions, learning about the Roman camp. Of course, she didn’t bring up her interest in Reyna – what was she supposed to do? Confess her undying love? Kiss her in front of the entire Senate? Plus, the last time she’d thought she had a crush, on Percy, it had turned out to be a complete lie – she had confused her fascination for the world of Greek mythology for genuine attraction to the son of Poseidon.  
Rachel tried her best to ignore the part of her that yearned for something impossible.

She drew. Her sketchbook became a hodgepodge of sketches of a certain someone between segments of prophecies and random doodles. Gods, it was like she’d gone back in time.

Rachel had new dreams; these one were definitely not meant to be shared.  
***  
Some campers were suspicious of Reyna – their praetor was becoming awfully close to their Greek counterparts. They threw Reyna looks behind her back, and refused to support her during Senate meetings. There were rumors she had formed a secret alliance with the Greeks and would soon turn on Camp Jupiter.  
But Reyna’s position as praetor was secured. Most campers knew she would never betray her home – because that’s what Camp Jupiter was to her, home – and that the sparse claims otherwise were undeniably wrong.

Still, it was hard for Reyna, being faced with endless opposition despite working to the best of her ability. It was nothing new, but along with her continual stress and grief, it didn’t help liven her spirit.

Rachel’s regular stops by became small pockets of hope. Rachel was silly. She was loud and open-spirited. Her dozens of funny faces always cheered Reyna up, though she tried to remain contained.

People noticed their peculiar friendship. They formed such an unexpected pairing. Nobody really understood why Reyna had taken such a liking to Camp Half-Blood’s red-headed oracle.  
***  
Reyna took some time wrapping her head around her feelings.

One night, when she was up late doing paperwork, Rachel stopped by like she often did. She sat in one of the two praetors’ chairs, which she’d pulled to the other side of the table in order to face Reyna. She was bent over Reyna’s arm, doodling swirls on her skin in pen.

Her touch was distracting. Reyna couldn’t pay attention to the Lar’s testimony she was supposed to be reading, and promptly gave up, leaving the task for tomorrow against better judgement. She rested her cheek against her palm and watched the swirls appear on her skin. The girls sat quietly in the room’s imposing stillness, the only sounds their breathing.

Reyna’s jumbled thoughts fixed on the girl sitting next to her. The logistics of their relationship were… preoccupying, and Reyna felt herself disappearing into her own head. It was something she did frequently when she was with Rachel – they were some of the only moments when she felt safe enough to do so.  
Rachel was here on behalf of the Greeks – but she was mortal. Both camps were separated for years by the gods’ deception – but Rachel could see through the Mist. There were so many obstacles stacked against them and their coming together, but they’d found each other despite every barrier placed in their way, and Reyna didn’t want to let go of that any time soon.

It was ironic. Of course Reyna, who had been running from every monstrous thing since she was but a young girl, had fallen in love with a mortal. But, if Reyna really thought about it, it made sense. Both she and Rachel were plagued by the fantastical, were born to fulfill the gods’ wishes. If you believed in fate, and you really had to when you were the daughter of a Roman goddess, you could see Rachel was destined to become the Oracle’s host, and Reyna was intended to become praetor. They were meant for great things. Their paths were always headed to a same collision point, were always meant to intertwine.

Reyna opened her eyes to see Rachel drawing hearts on the back of her hand. She cracked a smile, feeling joy rise up in her chest.

Plus, she admitted, she could use a bit of the mundane every once in a while.  
***  
Reyna sat in a corner of the New Rome café. She looked up at the clock hung on the far left wall – it was 11:48am. She had come early, but she wanted to make sure not to leave Rachel waiting.

The barista behind the counter watched her curiously. Reyna was a regular customer, but she usually came alone. He could tell she was expecting someone, made obvious from his peeking over the cappuccino machine every couple minutes. Reyna flashed him a bold smile and gave a little wave. He blushed brightly and turned away, pretending to fiddle with the machine.

A bell rang out through the café, and Rachel walked in. Her hair was tied up in a bun, and she wore the same white blouse she had on when she first met Reyna on the Manhattan rooftop. Not all that long ago, she had found Reyna to deliver an impossible quest, and now she was here to meet Reyna for a date.

Not a date, Reyna corrected herself. Rachel never agreed to a date. They were just meeting to share hot chocolate and cheese croissants and goodbyes.  
It wasn’t anything more than goodbye.

The thought saddened Reyna – of course, Rachel would come back eventually, but their friendship might never be the same.


	3. Long-distance

Rachel crashed onto the Jacksons’ couch, wearing her hood pulled over her great mass of hair. She stretched out the length of the couch and sighed dramatically. Her eyes darted to Percy, who was sitting at the kitchen counter, struggling to sort through the week’s mail.

Percy raised his eyebrow at Rachel’s dramatic position and pushed aside the clutter of envelopes. He hopped off his stool and sat on the couch’s armrest, crossing his arms and looking down at the pathetic lump that was Rachel Elizabeth Dare.

“You okay?”

Rachel sighed even louder, then took off her hood to look up at Percy. “No, I’m not okay,” she professed. “I’m here, all alone, on your couch, all. Alone.”

“You’re not alone – I’m right here.”

Rachel shot him a skeptical look. “Sorry, Percy, but you’re not my girlfriend. I miss my _girlfriend_.”

Percy cracked a smile. “I still can’t believe you’re dating Reyna. It’s crazy. It’s…”

“Amazing.”

Percy scratched his eyebrow with his thumb. “Well,” he announced, “I guess your visions really weren’t bad omens.”

“Nope.” Rachel grinned smugly. “I’m just… really gay.”

***  
Rachel called Percy, like she always did when she wasn’t sure what to do.

Sally picked up the landline. “This is the Jackson-Blofis residence, how can I help?”

“Hi Sally! It’s Rachel, is Percy there?”

Sally’s voice perked up. “Of course, sweetheart, just give me a second…”

There was a shuffle, and a minute later, Percy’s croaky voice filled the intercom. “Hey.”

Rachel’s words burst out of her mouth. “Guess what?”

“Wha –”

“Reyna’s coming over for an entire week we pulled some strings and she’s gonna be here in five days well four and a half days now and I’m excited isn’t it exciting my parents are away and she’ll stay at my place and I need ideas for what to do help help help.” All in one breath.

“Hey, that’s great!”

“Percy Percy tell me what to do help help help please please please.”

“Well, maybe –”

“Actually never mind I’m coming over is this a good time?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Rachel hung up without a goodbye, grabbed a blue sweater off the floor, and hurried out the door.

On the way to Percy’s house, she reminisced on her coming out to Percy a while back – it felt like it happened ages ago. He’d been surprised, but also amazingly supportive. Realising she liked girls had been one of the best things to ever happen to her. She couldn’t have asked for better friends. Or a better girlfriend… Reyna was the best.

Reyna always knew the right thing to say to make Rachel happy, and she always meant it. Rachel couldn’t wait to see her again.

She turned into a back alley and climbed the fire escape two steps at a time until she got to Percy’s bedroom window. She knocked on the glass, avoiding knocking over the potted plants in the corner.

Percy appeared in the window. He shook his head exasperatingly at Rachel’s lack of concern for privacy and cranked open the window.

Rachel flashed a big smile, to which Percy grinned back, giving in. He looked like he had just woken up, although it was near noon – his hair stuck up, and his breath wasn’t particularly fresh.

Rachel made a shooing motion with her hands. “Move.” Percy obeyed, and she climbed through the window swiftly.

Percy sat down at his desk chair, stretching out his legs, as Rachel seated herself on his bed. She pulled off her boots and tucked her feet under her, settling down for a long conversation.

Percy scratched the back of his head. “So what exactly’s going on…?”


	4. Fairy Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyna's taking a break from her praetor duties, and Rachel's parents are away...

 

Reyna was taking a break. She could tell leading without her made Frank nervous, but he’d insisted she take time off, and Reyna wasn’t keen to oppose. She was busy, and had responsibilities lined-up until the end of time, but she also had a girlfriend she loved and missed and wanted to spend time with.

It was selfish.

Rachel’s parents were away for the month, and they had the house to themselves.

So very selfish.

When Rachel opened the front door, Reyna’s heartstrings tugged at her chest. Rachel was framed in the lit doorway, wearing too-big jeans and a paint-stained sweater. So beautiful. And her hair – she’d chopped most of it off, and it was now chin-length. Reyna felt her face heat up.

Rachel beamed as she took Reyna’s bags in each of her hands (Reyna packed light – one bag of clothes, and another full of weapons) and led her into the living room. Reyna ogled at the exposed nape of Rachel’s neck as she followed. It was dotted with delicate bronze freckles, and Reyna wanted to kiss every single one.  
They were both giddy and excited and panicked and nervous. They were teenage girls and they were lovers, and it was just the two of them in a giant house, and the week to come was going to be marvelous.

Rachel set her bags down next to the couch. Reyna looked around the spacious room, taking it all in. It was a bizarre mix of industrial and formal, all open beams and straight edges. Neither of them said anything.

And then Rachel started laughing, and Reyna smiled so wide her cheeks hurt. Rachel leaped up into the air and hugged her. She put her lips to her ear and whispered, “I missed you I missed you I missed you so much.”

“Me too.” Reyna pressed her hands into the small of Rachel’s back and breathed in the scent of her. The artificial smell of acrylic paints. Sweat. Shampoo.  
They stood like that for a while, taking in each other’s presence. When Rachel finally let go, she led Reyna to the couch and patted the spot next to her.  
Reyna sat down, much closer than necessary.

“So,” she said, “What’s our schedule like?”

“A date. Many dates. I’ll show you around, we’ll go to the park, and the gardens . . . I bought tickets to a play at the rec center . . . And more. So much more.”  
Rachel rested her head on Reyna’s arm and pressed her cheek into Reyna’s SPQR tattoo.

Reyna sighed. “That sounds amazing. But for now, let’s just . . . exist.”

Rachel grinned. She tilted her head up to land a kiss on Reyna’s shoulder and mumbled against her skin, “That sounds nice. A change of pace for you, huh, Miss Praetor?”

Reyna wasn’t sure if she had ever been happier.

***  
They spent the rest of the evening sitting right there on the couch, watching movies. Reyna never had time for this type of entertainment at Camp Jupiter. This was a week of catching up, in every sense.

At some point during the second movie, Rachel had gotten tired, and lay her head in her girlfriend’s lap. Reyna stroked her hair, lost in thought, as Rachel snored softly.

Reyna wondered what Frank was up to. Whether people were giving him a hard time. Were the praetors’ duties too much for him to handle on his own? Was it too soon? Reyna herself had lead on her own for months, and though she knew Frank was just as capable as her, she was all too familiar with how isolating the experience was to feel entirely comfortable loading it onto someone else.

But she’d taken precautions. She’d worked hard the last couple weeks, stayed up late nights in order to finish business before her temporary leave. She’d even gotten Jason to agree to help out at Camp Jupiter for the week. Everything had to be going just fine.

She deserved this. She wasn’t a machine that could go on and on without break. She should be allowed to get away for a couple days, enjoy herself. She’d spent her whole childhood fighting to stay alive, and now that the war was over and things were finally starting to shape up, she should be allowed to live.

She tried to convince herself it was okay. And she did, for the most part. She kept worrying herself in circles, but ultimately, when she looked down at Rachel’s sleeping face in her lap, she didn’t wish she’d made a different decision.

The sun had gone down by the time Reyna looked up and realized the television’s pre-recorded video was playing. She’d missed the entirety of the movie’s ending. Reyna leaned over Rachel’s sleeping form to take the remote off the coffee table and turn off the television. Then she repositioned her body and slid into place next to Rachel, snuggling up against her head. She pressed her nose to the bare back of Rachel’s neck.

This was her spot.  
***  
“What’s this?” Reyna reached under the bed, towards piles of crusty paint supplies and stacked canvases.

Rachel reddened, sitting on the bed watching Reyna from above. She’d wanted to show Reyna her paintings eventually, but goddamn was it embarrassing.  
Reyna took out a painting of Luke. As a child. That painting gave Percy the creeps, but Rachel couldn’t bring herself to destroy it. It seemed a bad omen, burning a portrait of a dead man.

Reyna swallowed and pushed it aside. She found heaps of anatomy studies from a figure drawing class Rachel had taken last year. She marvelled at them, lingering over each one, smoothing out their wrinkled edges, even those that had been ten minute-practice sketches. Her fingers got stained with charcoal, but she was careful not to soil the papers.

When Reyna had gone through a pile, she stacked them neatly and put them aside. Rachel braced herself as Reyna pulled out a painting. It was of her, standing tall against a background of smoke. She wore a long toga, and a laurel crown sat upon her head.

Reyna’s eyes widened as she realized what she was looking at. “What…?”

Rachel grimaced, embarrassed. “There’s more, too . . . I used to get these visions. I still do, but not like these . . .”

Reyna looked up from her knuckles, which she had been rubbing together. “Can I see them?”

Rachel nodded willingly. She hopped down from her bed, sat on the floor, then lowered onto her stomach to reach under the bed. She pushed aside dried paints and a bundled-up fuzzy sock in order to pull out a stack of dusty canvases. She heard Reyna inhale sharply as she witnessed the sheer amount of them.

As they went through the paintings one by one, Rachel saw Reyna as she used to see the girl when she was nothing but the stuff of dreams. A harsh chin. Broad shoulders. The most piercing eyes she’d ever seen. Rachel put her fingers on the other girl’s wrist. She could feel her heartbeat. Life coursing through her veins.

The girl of her dreams was real.

How lucky she was.

***  
Reyna was crying.

Rachel’s head snapped up. She scooted even closer to Reyna.

“Did I do something?”

“The paintings. It’s too much. It’s too… good. I’m not – I’m not that beautiful. That… grand.”

Rachel brought her hand to Reyna’s face and stroked her cheek, wiping away tears. “Trust me, I’m nowhere near a good enough artist to capture even half your beauty.” She smiled. “Or your _grandness_.”

Reyna looked at her sharply. Rachel thought she might be angry and braced herself, but instead Reyna leaned over and kissed her carefully.

She pulled away just enough to say, “I love you, Rachel.”

It was the first time she’d ever said it. Rachel’s breath hitched.

“I love you too,” she rushed out.

She kissed Reyna again. Harder, this time. “So much.”

***  
They lay on either end of the bed, their hands clasped together in the middle. They were two islands in a sea of sheets. It really was a big bed.

Rachel was on her stomach, spread out unceremoniously, red hair spilling over the pillow. Reyna stared at the ceiling, her forehead creased.

Rachel shifted to face her. “What’s wrong?” Her voice was sleepy.

Reyna trailed her hand the length of Rachel’s arm, and the other girl sighed deeply. Contentedly. Reyna took in a sharp breath, overwhelmed. She stilled and squeezed her eyes shut.

Her words were so quiet Rachel had to strain to hear them. “I – I don’t deserve this. To be this happy.” Reyna curled around herself, her knees pulled up.

Rachel pushed herself forward and wrapped her arms around Reyna. She smoothed the girl’s hair away and pushed her face into her shoulder. Reyna was shaking. “I don’t deserve – ”

“Yes, you do.” Rachel kissed Reyna’s shoulder. Again and again. “You deserve everything.”

She meant it.


End file.
